


Assuaging of a Guilty Mind

by A_Single_Drop_of_Winter



Series: The Woe of the Womb [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But like only a little bit, Canonical Character Death, Conversations, Gen, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, I know we die like men but I can't, I need a beta reader guys, Mother-Son Relationship, My First Work in This Fandom, My first fic in years, Not Beta Read, Not Tony Stark Friendly, Peter Parker Feels, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Single_Drop_of_Winter/pseuds/A_Single_Drop_of_Winter
Summary: In the aftermath of Infinity War, all May Parker can think about are her nephew's whereabouts.In the aftermath of Infinity War, all Tony Stark can think about is purging the shadows from his conscious.Or, a conversation after Tony returns to earth. In which Peter's death weighs heavily on two different people, for two different reasons.





	Assuaging of a Guilty Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Let's assume that Tony found some way back to earth, and it is assumed that for now nothing can be done about the...err 'dusting'. I'm planning two companion pieces for this focusing on May and Peter. One of which takes place before this, and the other after this. I should get the next one done in a little under or over a week. This is my first fanfic in literally three years (and my first MCU fic to boot), so feedback would be much appreciated. I'm so nervous I could actually vomit; I really wanted a beta reader, but I couldn't find one. I'll continue looking though, so eventually, expect a rise in grammatical quality. The working title for this piece was 'Devolution', which I plan to use for another fic because I liked it so much. Without further ado:

Tony wasn’t sure where to even begin with this subject. How does one tell a woman that her sort-of-son went to space under your care and turned into dust particles. Maybe he could open with attempting to care for her with monetary condolences. Tony felt entitled to the kid- just a bit. After all, Peter followed him into battle. Tony didn’t even know why he decided to explain what happened to the woman. 

May Parker walked back into the room with two glasses of water (though Tony would have preferred some liquid courage), and smiled at him kindly. Her clothes were wrinkled and haphazardly thrown together, and purple bags practically swallowed the expanse of her face. 

Perhaps if he had called ahead she would’ve cleaned herself up a bit for a guest. He certainly had tidied up; even if it was only to visit a woman who was less than an acquaintance.

Tony cleared his throat as she sat down, and put down the glass of water May had just placed in his hands. He looked in her eyes as she frowned slightly at his behavior. 

“I want to discuss Peter,” Tony said stiffly. Trying his best not to break eye contact as May met his stare head-on.

“What happened? Is he okay?”   


_ Is he okay?  _

Is he? Tony wasn’t sure, did the kid count as dead or just gone for now. Should he lie? That would at least save him the trouble of this confrontation fast approaching. Tony steeled himself, ready for a poor reaction. 

“Is-is he part of the percentage of the population who-” May continued, her fingers held tight and fast into the cardigan she wore: expression grim.

“Yes.”

A simple answer: a succinct answer. 

May’s expression twisted, her mouth agape and eyes widened: shattered

A not good enough answer.

“You know,” May started quietly, her eyes downcast, “my Peter really admired you.”

Tony’s lungs burned at her admission; suddenly he was grateful for the water as he let the icy substance cool whatever little guilt he may have felt. And May- May wasn’t done.

“I have no idea why. You’re nothing but a selfish, careless, child trapped in an adult’s body. And Peter- Peter, he was practically my son, but I let him swing webs and be a hero even though it was dangerous. He knew it was dangerous, but he never signed up for a war; he was just a child. Before that, where did he go before that Stark? Where was he risking his life for your cause before he was,” May paused and shut her eyes for a split second before continuing; her voice shook and quivered like a baby bird, “before he turned into dust. Where was he?”

Tony could only focus on one declaration at a time, and what immediately caught his attention was May’s mention of Spider-man: she knew. “Mrs. Parker,” he began slowly, “you knew Peter is- _ was _ Spider-man.” Not a question, but rather a statement. 

May narrowed her eyes at him; her teeth bared and lips pulled back in the mimicry of a wild animal. “Of course I knew. That boy was fifteen and careless; do you really think he could keep a secret like that from me? I practically raised Peter; he’s practically my son! I found out a bit after he started going out.”

_ "That’s  _ what you focus on. Not the fact that Peter is gone-  _ gone.  _ He’s dead and gone. It may have been the dust that took Peter, but I can’t forgive you for putting him in situations where he could’ve been killed. You’re an adult, what were you thinking bringing a child into a mess _ you _ started? You’re an adult, so act like it. I don’t care if you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. I don’t care I don’t care if you divorced yourself from the rest of the Avengers. You knowingly brought a minor with you to fight for something he didn’t understand. And that,  _ that,  _ is inherently awful:  _ you  _ are inherently awful.”   


Tony kept his expression cordial except for the twitch of his brow he couldn’t help. Peter had admired him, and Tony felt some sense of responsibility for him, but the kid wasn’t his. And if Peter wanted to be a hero, he would've had to look out for himself; the kid wasn’t his and he was in no way obligated to look after him. 

Even so, Tony felt some entitlement to the role as a slightly paternal figure to Peter; he’d thought about how his own father had raised him, and tried to treat the kid better than that. This conversation was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth; probably from all the remarks he held back. Tony did have enough social grace to not speak snark with a silver tongue in front of a grieving woman. 

“I know how you feel Mrs. Parker. Peter...Peter felt like a son to me too.”

“Don’t even start you entitled pig!  Like a son to you? He wasn’t yours. You know nothing-  _ knew  _ nothing about Peter. You made him feel like he wasn’t worth anything. That he wasn’t a hero.”

Tony scrunched his eyes, harshly set down his glass, and said, “He is a hero.”

_ "Was! _ Was a hero, because he’s dead: gone,” her voice broke off as May buried her head in her hands; shoulders shaking, “I hate you.”

“Mrs. Parker-”

“Get out.”

Tony didn’t know what came over him in that moment. Maybe it was left over resentment for how his own father made him feel. Perhaps it was the feeling that he did have some sort of half-baked claim over the kid. Either way, the first word he thought to say was 'please', and Tony never said please. To beg when he could take was a choice he scoffed at. If he could do something himself or make someone do it for him: why beg? However, there was something about today; something about that very minuscule span of minutes where for one of the few times in his life, all Tony wanted to say was 'please'. 

As such, Tony stayed exactly where he was sitting; making no motion to comply, “please, just let me explain-

May looked up at him, unshed tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. But oh, her voice no longer shook and broke with the weight of her words. Now it was steady and constrained like a pistol about to fire; like a coil wound tight, tight,  _ tight.  _ Tony knew in that moment he had made a mistake; for this woman was crafted from spitfire and the rage of a mother’s love in this moment where the only word he could muster was ' _ please'. _

“I don’t want an explanation; if you want to give me something make it an apology.”

An apology? The word sorry hadn’t even crossed Tony’s mind; only the need to explain away his involvement: his responsibility.  _ Just say it so you can leave.  _ However, a cat gripped Tony’s tongue, and pride pushed his voice deep down into his throat until it made a home there. 

He shifted in his seat; reaching for the long forgotten water that had warmed. Tony drank all of it; hoping it would clear the pride in his throat and erode it to shame. The glass emptied quickly, but it still wasn’t enough to form the words May wanted to hear from him.

“Will you forgive me for dragging the kid into a war,” Tony said after a moment’s deliberation. May looked up at him; her mouth set in a tight line, and her nose scrunched in distaste. Tony changed his tactic at the opening of her mouth. “I kept tabs on him,” he said, “before approaching him to fight for me.”

A wrong move on his part apparently; as Tony realized he was trying to explain why stars die to the sun. May abruptly stood up; her hands were balled into fists, but her eyes were cold.

“You stalked my nephew?”

“Stalked is a rather negative word. I was just making sure the kid didn’t get himself kil-” 

“You stalked my nephew.”

Tony stood up so they were on even ground. He didn’t crumble under the weight of the woman’s icy glare: his pride provided stability.

May let her hands uncurl; let her expression morph from frost to hollowness befitting Tony’s own skull when he decided to mention that little detail. “I thought the worst thing you did was take Peter to Germany; I never gave permission, and he didn’t have a passport. I didn’t know how he was supposed to come home. Now? Now I know it wasn’t the worst thing you did, not to you anyway. To you, it was insignificant, it didn’t matter:  _ Peter  _ didn’t matter.”

“Leave.”

And this time, Tony didn’t hold his ground and stay. He walked to the door with his head held high. He had done what he set out to do; he knew once the door was shut we would no longer feel that whisper of guilt in the back of his head. He could move on with his life and the next course of action with a light conscious. May followed behind him, her face seemed older than it did when he entered; there was a certain worn quality to it that Tony’s own face just didn’t bare. 

He walked out of the little home, probably for the last time, and stopped just outside the door.

“I really am sorry, Mrs. Parker.”

May’s eyes found his and locked Tony into place as she shut the door in his face. 

“I don’t believe you.”


End file.
